


Stockholm Syndrome

by happycemetery



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Abduction, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happycemetery/pseuds/happycemetery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU:: He's probably not a serial killer.  He might not even kill me at all. But he does have a gun, and he took me with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foniasophobia

 

When you think of people's biggest fears the most common things to pop in your head are the dark, heights, spiders, or flying. Fears so run of the mill there's no reason to be ashamed of them, because chances are there are at least a few thousand other people who share it. I let people think I fall into the spider category, but it's not entirely false. Only something born of evil needs that many legs. And I will admittedly shriek like a three-year-old girl if I spot one big enough too close to me. I'm afraid of spiders, but spiders aren't my biggest fear.

I guess the fear of dying would be closer to the truth. But that's not decisively it. The uncertainty of when death will eventually take us all doesn't plague me. I'm not afraid to die exactly. It's more of the how it will happen. Who will make it happen.  I'm afraid of being abducted by a serial killer to be slowly and painfully murdered. It's a phobia I'm completely embarrassed about having. It's stupid. I know it is. There's only a .00039% chance ending up the victim of a serial killer —not that I've researched it or anything. I've got a better chance choking to death on tortilla chip, but that still does mean there _is_ a chance.

I'm paranoid. I know that. But at least being able to acknowledging my crazy means I'm still a little sane.  This fear might be a little debilitating, but I'm not exactly locked away hiding.  I live on my own.  I have a job I have to leave my apartment for.  I socialize with my coworkers every great now and then.  I have a girlfriend I'm not sure I deserve.  Parents that I'm dead to.  You know, the usual.  I don't know, I think it's pretty much the mundane average life of a financially struggling twenty-year-old.  I just happen to have an extra issue.  A fear that lingers in the background unnoticed until certain situations arise.

I'm just aware of risks and take better notice of my surroundings than most. I make sure my apartment is locked up tight. I carry a small switchblade. I avoid going anywhere secluded by myself if it can be helped.  My girlfriend knows I'm anxious about deserted places, that I'm wary around new people trying to befriend me.  She just thinks I'm nervous by nature.  She'll tease me, call me a pussy and smack me on my shoulder.  If she only knew the actual reason I got nervous by seemingly empty places is that they could be hiding some cutthroat crazy person.  If she only knew the reason I'm uneasy befriending people at the start is because the first thought that pops into my head is that they could be a killer just trying to gain my trust. It was a miracle that I even had her as a girlfriend in the first place.  I guess I was lucky that she has that take charge personality and wouldn't take my dismissive and timid demeanor as a rejection when we first met.

And I suppose I'm lucky too that she doesn't seem to care too much to prod about how I'm feeling or why.  Thinking on it, our relationship leans more toward the physical connection.  We've been together six months and haven't shared 'I love you's, but I trust her I guess.  Enough to be intimate and alone.  Enough to know she wouldn't legit kill me despite how I know I drive her crazy sometimes.  But I could never tell her about this fear.  I don't think I could ever tell anyone. I like to tell myself it's just because I'm embarrassed by it. But while that is part of the excuse for keeping this madness all to myself, the more real reason is if I let this knowledge out, who knows who else could find out. Something so simple as being harmlessly teased over this fear waiting in the queue to get movie tickets could lead to someone over hearing. Someone who could be a killer. A killer who would find the dumb kid with the murder phobia as the perfect next victim to stalk, take, and slaughter.

I don't exactly know what the big trigger was.  You'd think it would have to stem from my fucked up violent childhood; sure I was scared then, but not of this.  And even before things got bad at home I was already that weird little five-year-old that got into the love of gore and the gruesome and horror flicks, and as I got older the love of music with themes of violence and death. It was all cool. It still _is_ cool. But I don't know when this happened. When I became afraid. When the pretend carnage I loved turned into something real that could happen to me.  I know my nightly habit of watching violent crime shows before I went to bed only fueled my paranoid imagination, giving me more horrifying what-ifs that could happen, but I'm addicted to those kind of shows. I do still like gore after all, and the chase of the killer was captivating. Plus you could see what the victims did right and wrong.  You can plan out what you could do differently to stay alive, to get away.

It was when I went to bed alone or even with my girl that I would get the most nervous. I'd make sure the place was locked down like Fort Knox. I'd lay awake and listen for any noise that could possibly be the sound of someone breaking in. It wasn't every night, but it was most that I'd stay that way, laying there with my eyes closed listening, worrying, and fearing until I finally passed out.

I know I'm crazy, at least to a degree. Being murdered isn't exactly an everyday occurrence that someone should dwell on and fear when they're going to sleep at night or waiting alone at a bus stop. Normal people don't ever imagine this sort of thing happening to them. But this _does_ happen to people.  Someone has to be that .00039%.  I did my best to not to worry.  I did my best to stay out of obvious risky situations.  But despite my best efforts I think there's a chance I could become a statistic.  He's probably not a serial killer.  He might not even kill me at all. But he does have a gun and, he took me with him.


	2. Robbery Gone Wrong

I was always so worried about break-ins or being jumped outside of an alley or even falling into the trap of a psycho throwing nails out on the road in the middle of nowhere to get their victims stranded. I was careful. I was always so careful, but I never really thought about this. Just being caught in a random criminal act. Maybe I was asking for this kind of luck letting paranoia get to me. Maybe it was a skewed kind of karma that let me happen to be in the 7-Eleven at that exact moment.

If only I had pushed my girlfriend more to let me spend the night at her place. If only my car wasn't a piece of shit I couldn't afford to fix that month I could have been in and out of this place way earlier driving not walking. If only I had went straight home. I never liked walking the streets at night, it was one of those risky situations. If I had to I made the travel time as quick as possible. I should have went home. I could have avoided this. But hindsight is 20/20. I didn't think I had anything to worry about. The city street was pretty well lit, the store was brighter and on the way. What wouldn't be safe about it? I just got laid and wanted to stop in to pick up a snack. Old habits die hard. Old habits may have led to the death of me.

I had been walking out of an aisle toward the register when I first saw him burst through the door: in all black, wearing a ski mask. I knew a robbery was about to go down. I froze, loosing my grip on the bag of Doritos and a bottle of Coke just a split second ago I thought I was simply about to purchase and be on my way. My heart had already started hammering, but it did even more so when he pulled out a gun he was concealing by the front of his zipped open jacket. He was at the register in an instant, gun aimed at the trembling young woman manning it. He looked back at me then for a brief second. He might have had a mask on but I could see the warning in his eyes. I did the only safe and logical thing I could do in that situation; I raised my arms up in a little surrender. A silent 'Please don't shoot me. I'm not going to do to anything'.

The worker was loading up the backpack the robber shoved at her with all the cash from the register, and I was afraid. But I can at least uprightly say I wasn't concerned with me, I was afraid for that now traumatized girl with the gun pointed at her trying to not hyperventilate as she shakily did as the man commanded. I was in this daze of disbelief that this was really happening. I know I lived with fears of very violent acts happening to me, some definitely involving guns; but this was surreal, actually seeing someone with a gun in front me threatening to use it. So I just watched on helplessly, literally just four steps away from the scene. It was happening so fast, yet it somehow felt like time was moving in slow motion. I was scared, sure, but I had my bearings. I could reason that the guy just wanted the money. The girl was complying, so he'd get it and he'd leave. He'd be happy and gone. The girl would be fine. I would be fine. Everything would be fine.

I had never been so wrong.

Yes, the robber got his money, the bag zipped up secure. Hell, I even heard the man say a smooth "thank you very much, cutie, you've been a big help" to the girl. And yes, it even looked like the robber was just about to walk away, but at that same second someone else walked into the store. It wasn't just any someone. It was a police officer, and by the looks of how the old man just nonchalantly strolled on in, he obviously only came in to buy something. The officer noticed the robber at the counter within a second, though, and immediately reached for his gun in his holster. That tiny sliver of relief that sparked inside me when I thought this ordeal was ending was shot dead with the sudden presence of the cop reaching for his weapon. I was sure I was about to witness a gun fight. Fear spiked through my chest. I could get caught in the cross fire. I could get shot. I could get killed.

It seemed like the robber had the same fear as he quickly dashed behind me. He was a few inches taller, and he put me in a strong chokehold, pressing the barrel of the gun to the side of my head.

"Don't do anything stupid, asshole! I'll fuckin' blow his brains out!"

I couldn't breathe. I was a human shield and had a gun to my head. I was going to die. I wasn't going to be given the chance to make something of my life. To stop being a loser. To stop being some mundane fuck.

There was talking —the calm firm tone of the officer and the loud angry one of the robber— but I was far too gone in a petrified daze to discern what was actually being said. When I felt the gun being pressed firmer against my temple though, that actually snapped me out of it. The policeman was slowly setting his gun and radio on the floor and sidestepping away from the door. The robber kept me in the headlock and started to drag me with him toward the door, always keeping me held facing the officer to act as that human wall of protection. The man stopped us at the policeman's gun first, and he pulled himself away from me for a fleeting second to grab it and tuck it into the front of his pants, his own gun ever aimed at me, squashing any thought to try to get away from him. He stomped on the cop's small radio effectively breaking it, and he got me back into that headlock, dragging me the remaining steps to the door.

He took the lead, heading out first backwards. We were half way through it, and then sweet, sweet hope started to bubble through me. The robber could just runaway home free at this point. The cop didn't have his gun, couldn't radio for help where he was, so hurting or killing or keeping me would be pointless. The lunatic with the gun just came here for the money. He had it now and could get away. I really thought I was going to be okay, but then I heard the man's frustrated mutter.

"Shit, another one."

I couldn't help but crane my neck to look outside to see the problem. The policeman's car was right outside and another cop was in there, and that cop was just now noticing that something horribly wrong was going on.

"You fuckin' run with me when I say," the robber hissed in my ear, "or you'll have a bullet in your head faster than you can blink."

I couldn't breathe again. I was shaking. This psycho was planning on taking me with him. I just went from human shield to real hostage. I was panicked and rightfully so. This already scary robbery situation at the start had quickly escalated to my biggest fear. Maybe I wasn't dealing with a killer, but it was still a man with a gun and very violent threats. Maybe he really was only a robber, but to become a killer you have to start somewhere. Maybe he never used that gun on anyone before, but I could end up the first.

"Run" was sharply whispered in my ear, and run with my captor was all I could do. Running out of sheer fright as to what would happen if I didn't comply with the criminal's demands. I was no longer being held around the neck, but the robber had a painfully tight grip on my arm. I was being led to a dark two-door car, and within seconds I was being forced into the passenger seat. As the robber ran around to the other side, he fired his gun twice, precisely blowing out two of the police car's tires. He was behind the wheel in an instant, and I could only sit in a horrified panic as the man promptly got the car started and peeled out of the parking lot.

The robber didn't say anything, just drove one-handed while his other was busy keeping his gun aimed in my direction. I was filled with panic and fear and enough adrenaline to make my heart feel like it was about to burst out of my chest, but I knew I had to try to calm myself. I just needed to accept that this was really happening. I would play out these kinds of scenarios in my mind, I watched enough of those crime TV shows that kind of gave you a guide on what to do, and my paranoid self even read a few articles about abductions. If anyone could survive this it was me.

Keeping your composure was the first step. I knew that, and the fact that I knew that actually kind of calmed me just a bit. I concentrated on slowing my ragged breathing. In through the nose, out slow through the mouth.  Stay calm, think positive, be alert, see if there was any safe way to escape.  I could do this.  I could get through this.

And so I sat there in that horrible quiet, my breathing pretty much managed but my mind racing.  I kept my head down like I was just looking down at my fidgeting fingers in my lap, but I let my eyes look out my side window.   I had my cell phone in my pocket unknown to my captor for now, and if somehow there was a chance I could call for help it was important I knew were I was. I had my switchblade too, but that wasn't going to be much use to me now with a gun pointed at me. 

The man's silence made the situation somehow more unnerving.  He wasn't giving me any clue on how to act here.  I wasn't sure if I should try to talk to him or not.  I didn't know if it would help encourage him to let me go or get me shot.   I took a resolute breath.  I was going to take a chance and speak up, and hope to god it wouldn't end up too horrible a mistake.  I took another deep quiet breath trying to figure out the safest thing to say.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked carefully, still not looking at him.

"I'd keep your mouth shut, pretty boy, if you wanna make it outta this alive." 

That barked back response sure as fuck made me keep my mouth shut.  It was just back to the unnerving silence then.  I watched the scenery pass by in the window.  They guy wasn't speeding by any means, but everything just seemed like a blur now.  I couldn't tell how fast or slow time was moving.  I'm pretty sure I slipped into another wave of shock. 

Out of the blue it seemed, the car came to a stop, and exactly how long this little trip of hell took was lost to me.  It could have been five minutes or five hours as far as I could discern.  But I could recognize that the car was parked on the side of the street of a relatively quiet downtown of the close neighboring city to my own.  In those still seconds I chanced a glance at my captor for the first time since he peeled us out of the parking lot. The man wasn't wearing the ski mask anymore, and he couldn't have been that much older than I was.  His pale skin that was tinted yellow slightly by the glow of the street lamps outside, and jet black jaw length hair messily framed his face. And a handsome face it might have been, but as far as I was concerned, it was a face that belonged to an insane killer. A face I saw now. A face he knew I could describe to the cops now if he let me go. I swallowed down roughly.  This was not a good sign. This guy wasn't going to let him live.

"We're getting out here. You're going to wait until I come around and let you out the car myself, got it? And if you try to run I'm going to shoot you. You understand?"

I nodded. Being compliant was still my only best option. The man stuffed his mask and the policeman's gun into his bag of stolen money before he shouldered it and rush around to my side of the car. His own gun was obviously held inside the pocket of his black jacket, and soon his free gloved hand whipped my door open and yanked me out to the sidewalk.

"We're going for a little walk. You stay right next to me, got it? Keep your mouth shut and act normal."

And so we walked, each step I took filled with dread and willed on by fear.  My fucking insides were falling apart with the emotion, but I did my best to keep my appearance cool and collected as ordered. I kept my hands stuffed into the pockets of my tattered blue jacket to feign a relax attitude.  My right hand was right up against my phone, and it was killing me that I still didn't have the opportunity to use it without him knowing. It was really late, but we came across where people were still scattered about here and there outside of bars smoking cigarettes.  My mind fucking screamed, pleaded someone would feel something was off as we walked passed, but I supposed the two of us looked quite normal. Just another couple of pals walking home from a night at the bar. People didn't spare us a second glance.  And I just couldn't bring myself to try to make a run for it or yell out for help.  Not when the psycho had a gun. It wouldn't be just my life at stake, he could just as easily shoot up the few innocent people outside too. My dread only kept spiking.  I was out in the goddamn open, but still fucking trapped.  No one was going to help me. And I was probably just being led somewhere dark and abandoned to be shot where no one could see or hear. Where no one would find my body for days or weeks.

I was led through block after block after block until at last my captor had us walk up the parking lot of a 'Motel 6' and then right on up to door seventeen. He produced a key out of his pocket and once the door was unlocked, he shoved me inside the dark room. I stood frozen, even when the lights were flipped on. I just stood, awkward, terrified, my eyes just blankly roaming over the small motel room as I heard the door being shut and locked behind me. It was a small, clean, simple room. One queen bed, a nightstand, a television atop a dresser, a small cushioned chair before a desk, and a door that must have led into the bathroom. The man moved further inside, dropping his bag on the desk and pulling the chair back.

"Come here. Sit down."

I wasn't going to outrun a bullet trying to make a dash to the door behind me; so I sat, hands clasped nervously in my lap and staring down at my feet.

"Sorry to make you walk all that way, but I can't exactly bring a stolen car to right where I'm staying, now can I?" The captor chuckled, pulling off his black gloves and shrugging off his jacket.  

I stayed silent, but I looked up, watching him straighten out his black shirt as he took a seat on the end of the bed. 

"You got a wallet on you, kid?" he asked, twirling the gun in his hands idly.

I nodded.

"Toss it to me."

I lifted out of the chair a bit to reach a shaking hand into the back pocket of my jeans, pulling out my worn black leather wallet. I tossed it as ordered, and he caught it successfully with one hand. He immediately pulled out the few dollars inside, stuffing them in his own pocket.

"So, Frank Iero, is it?" The man was looking over my driver's license within. He pronounced my last name wrong, but I wasn't about to correct him. "Got any family or friends waiting for you at home, Frank?"

"No," I answered quietly, and I immediately regretted blurting out the truth.  I needed to give this guy a reason to let me go, and admitting I had no one missing me didn't help my case.

"Alright, good." The man set the wallet down and went about just fiddling with his gun again.  I couldn't help but lock my eyes on it nervously. "Okay Frank, here's the deal. You're just going to stay with me a little while just on the off chance I get caught before I blow outta this area. Can't have myself being caught without any leverage, and unfortunately for you, you're it. So all you have to do is listen to me, and then I don't have to fill that pretty little head of yours with lead. Think you can do that?"

I nodded hastily.

"Great," the man smiled coolly, and all I could do was grimace. 

He got up from the bed, walking around the other side where he lifted up a large duffle bag from the floor. He plunked it down on the mattress and after unzipping it, started to dig through it. It took a moment or two, but at last he pulled his hand out, dangling a set of red furry handcuffs off his finger. 

"I'd tell you about the last time I used these little babies," he smirked, "but I don't wanna scare you that much, kid." He walked up to me with the gun and cuffs in hand, and I fucking gulped.  Nothing good was about to happen. "Take your jacket off."

I shakily did as I was told, quickly shedding the jacket so I was down to just an old light blue t-shirt I was wearing underneath. I placed the balled up jacket in my lap only to have the man yank it off and toss it to the floor.  I was separated from my phone now.  The gun was set down on the desk, and the man then grabbed a firm hold of my right arm slapping one of the cuffs securely around my wrist. A second of a fighting spirit entered me: he didn't have the gun in his hand, and I still had the knife in my pocket.  If there was a time to fight, this was it.  But I was a fucking coward or maybe just too realistically aware of my chances.  He was still bigger than me and his gun was very close at hand for him; and maybe, just maybe he'd be true to his word and let me go later if I cooperated.  Cooperating was definitely the safer option of getting out of this alive, and it quickly became the only option once again as he pulled my arm back behind the arm of the chair and the other end of the handcuff was secured to the chair's back leg.  My left arm was quickly cuffed up the same way on the other side.

"Well, can you get out of it? Let's see."

I tugged, putting up a little struggle against my bonds, but there was no way in hell I could ever figure out any kind of escape. The more I pulled, the more the fuzzy coated metal dug into my wrists.

"Alright then, I hope you're comfortable," the man smirked and ruffled a hand through my hair.  The gesture made me sick, but I fought the urge to jerk away from him. "Nice tattoos by the way.." he went on, and unfortunately there was more touching.  He trailed a finger down my heavily inked forearm. Goosebumps rose over my skin. "Got anymore hiding?" He asked coyly, making the sinking feeling in my gut even worse as he curled a finger under the hem of my shirt. 

I suddenly couldn't breathe again. As if things weren't horrible and terrifying enough, now I was being struck with the dread that I was very likely about to be raped.  I squeezed my eyes shut, my whole body flinching from the unwanted touch of fingers grazing my skin as my shirt was being slowly pulled up. I couldn't stop the loud hitch of breath sounding as I tried to hold back a fear laden sob. "No.. no, there isn't anymore," I choked out.

"Well, I do imagine this must be.. a less than happy situation for you," I kept his eyes shut as the man spoke, barely having registered how the man pulled his hand away. "But do try to relax, Frankie." A couple soft slaps to my face, made me open my eyes to see my captor smiling crookedly. "Be a good boy and there's nothing to worry about."

The man grabbed his gun off the desk before walking over to the television and turning it on. It was already tuned in on a news station, and all I had to hear were the words _7-Eleven .. Robbery .. Hostage_ to know what was being reported on.

"Hey, look at this, buddy. We're on tv." The man pushed me in a better position so I could see the television as well. They were playing a couple of short security camera clips on a slowmotion loop on the left side of the screen as the news anchor talked about the robbery. One clip showed the masked robber holding up the store clerk. The other was of me entering the store with the tag line "Presumed Hostage". I just watched on where I was cuffed to a motel chair.. this situation had just gotten more surreal. The police department's number for their tip hotline came up on the bottom of the screen and I vainfully hoped there was a coworker or casual friend with insomnia tonight that was up watching this and recognized me.  They could let the cops know, get a better picture of me circulating. Maybe one of those people we past on the sidewalk this evening would recognize me then. Maybe it would get the police headed in the right direction toward finding me. And in a perfect hope - finding me alive.

"Don't you love it that they show this shit for the fucking criminals to see," the man chuckled and sat down on the bed. "I mean, now I know that the cops don't have any fucking leads on me, and nobody knows who the hell you are yet. As much as tonight has turned into a fiasco, I'm pretty much made in the shade, don't you think?" The man grinned. "I just need to figure out what I'm going to do with you exactly.." The man got up and placed his gun down on the nightstand and moved his things off the bed before pulling the top duvet off and walking over to me.

I bit down on my lip. I could picture that blanket being used as my body bag far too easily. I held my breath when the man got close, but all he did was wrap the blanket around me like he was fucking tucking me in to bed.

"I'll figure you out in the morning. I assume I can trust you not to try to escape in the middle of the night. And if you'd like to continue to not have your pretty little mouth gagged, or better yet a bullet in your head, you better keep quiet. You've been excellent so far, Frank, so keep it that way."

"Y-yes, sir."

"I hate it when people call me _sir_ , Frank." The man made a disgusted face, and I filled with even more fear, thinking that maybe even something this little might indeed set this lunatic off to shoot me. But the man just looked off, thoughtful. "You can call me, hmm.. Gerard." The man winked and ruffled my hair again. "Get some sleep, kid."

Sleep? Sleep while I was being held captive in a motel room by a gun wielding criminal? No. No sleep would come, I was sure of that. This Gerard, whether that was his real name or not, was going to kill me. The man just needed to think of how to dispose of my body. That was the only outcome I could see right now. When the television and lights were turned off, and when I eventually heard Gerard's occasional soft snores fill the dark silence I was engulfed in, I hung my head and let the tears fall as quietly as I could.


	3. Road Trip

I started to wake up with a small groan, my head was tilted uncomfortably forward, my chin resting on my chest. I was achy all over and had such a crick in my neck. I lifted my head, vaguely wondering why I was in a sitting position and lazily opened my eyes. I was filled with the sight of the motel room and felt my heart sink with dread. The nightmare of last night had been real after all. I gave my arms a tug only to find that I was still very much handcuffed to the chair I was in. My eyes glanced over to the bed, but I didn't see the man lying there. I frantically looked about the room. I didn't see Gerard anywhere. Maybe he decided to just leave me here while he skipped out of town, but that hope was dashed when the bathroom door suddenly opened and out walked Gerard, hair dripping wet with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Oh Frankie, you're awake," Gerard grinned, squatting down at his duffle bag on the floor and digging out some clothes. He dumped the clothes on the bed and just dropped his towel shamelessly to the floor as he started to dress. I quickly averted my eyes to the floor. "So I was thinking in the shower, and I'm afraid I can't just let you go, kid. I mean, it'd be a stupid thing to do on my part. You know what I look like after all, and I can't have you running off to the cops."

"I- I won't tell anyone, please."

"Aw Frankie," I looked back up to a sad smiling Gerard, now dressed pretty nicely, those same black jeans as last night but with a button up shirt and tie. "They all say they won't tell, don't they? And maybe they mean it when they say it, but," Gerard sighed, "they always end up spilling to the cops. Someone will eventually recognize you, Frank, and they'll make you talk. Coax you with some crap about how you don't have to be afraid and I can't hurt you anymore and shit. Well, I'm not going to let that happen."

"No. I swear I won't," I pleaded, dread and fear taking over every inch of my body. You weren't supposed to beg, but I didn't know what else I could say to talk my way out of the inevitable. "If they find me, I'll... I'll lie, I swear. I'll have them out looking for... for some blonde guy with a scar down his face. Please. I promise. Please let me go." In my gut I was sure this begging was all futile, but god, I had to try.

"That's too kind of you, sugar," Gerard patted my cheek gently, "But I'm afraid I just don't know you well enough to know if you'll keep your word or not, you know? So I'm afraid just turning you lose isn't an option I have."

"No," I shook my head frantically. My heart pounded and my pathetic pleading eyes glassy with tears. "Please, I swear. Please, don't kill me. Please."

"Calm down, would you." Gerard sighed and pulled the blanket off me, spreading it back on the bed. "Who said anything about killing you?" He grabbed his gun and a set of keys before walking behind my chair.

I felt him undoing the handcuffs. "W-what are you going to do with me?"

"You're coming with me. I have plans for you." Gerard was back at his bag, stuffing the cuffs back in.

"But... but..."

"I hardly think you're in any kind of position to argue with me, sugar," Gerard took a seat on the bed, casually pointing the gun at me. "Go ahead and get in the bathroom. You must have to take a piss. Don't lock the door."

I cautiously got up from the chair and made my way into the bathroom. Once I had the door shut behind me, I leaned back against it heavily, bringing shaking hands up to cover my face. I didn't want to know what plans Gerard had for me. I didn't want to think about it, because my overactive imagination would only picture the most gruesome of scenarios for myself. I moved to the toilet bowl, feeling rushed to finished using the bathroom as quickly as possible, fearing that Gerard might barge in angry if I took too long.

There was a small frosted window situated high on the wall over the toilet that I couldn't help but stare at longingly. If I were to just climb on the back of the toilet, I was sure the window was just big enough for me to pull myself through. My heart raced as my mind quickly toyed with the idea of attempting escape. I overthought it last time thinking I could escape with the knife.  I didn't let myself debate over the decision.  It was just a rapid instinct-to-survive impulse.  I was going to go for it. Gerard could catch me and kill me, yes. But as far as I was concerned Gerard was just going to kill me eventually anyway. I had to try something to get away. It was a death wish to pass up this opportunity. I turned the faucet on in hopes of creating a sort of muffling noise, and then as quietly as I could, I turned the small lever on the doorknob to lock the door. Pushing the image out of my mind of Gerard riddling the door with a barrage of bullets that I wouldn't be able to dodge, I carefully climbed atop the back of the toilet to come face-to-face with the opaque glass. It was a two paneled window where the two panes of glass were side by side, and one pane could be unlocked and slid to the side for it to be opened. I twisted the small lock and curled my fingers over the long narrow handle to slide the window open, but the damn thing wouldn't budge.

"Hey, I thought I told you not to lock the door. Hurry it up and get out of there."

My heart stopped at first when I heard Gerard's voice, then it raced erratically as he kept struggling with the handle. "S-sorry. Just a minute," I called out weakly. I was running on desperation and fear induced adrenaline, and perhaps it was that combination that somehow gave me that little boost of strength I needed to get the window un-jammed. It was open, and it was wide enough. I wasted no time gripping on the outside of the sill and hauling myself up. My head and shoulders through, I only got a glimpse of the narrow empty back lot of the motel when I heard the bathroom door slam open. I pulled more of myself out the window quicker in a panic, ready to just let myself fall headfirst to the asphalt below. I was so close. So fucking close.

But not quite.

"No!" The scream was loud and desperate from my lips when I felt the vice-like grip of Gerard's hand around my ankle. With just one powerful yank, I was pulled back inside the bathroom, falling down hard to the tiled floor. Gerard stood over me, pointing the gun at my chest, and I could only squeeze my eyes shut, knowing the inevitable was about to happen. I was going to die.

"You've got balls, kid. I'll give you that. Now get up, huh. I'm not gonna shoot you."

I got to my feet cautiously and kept my eyes trained on the floor. Afraid to look at Gerard. Afraid to look at the gun. Afraid Gerard was lying and was going to shoot me between the eyes.

"Try to pull that stunt again, though, and you won't find me so kind. Come on," Gerard grabbed a fistful of the front of my shirt, pulling me out of the bathroom. "Get your coat on. We're leaving."

~

Once again I found myself sitting terrified in a passenger seat of probably another stolen car. I was sure this time around I really was being brought to my execution ground. I didn't know what was worse: the torture my mind was going through knowing my brutal murder could just be minutes away and there was nothing I could do to stop it, or actually dying.

"So, you got a car?"

"Yes," I answered quietly, blankly staring out the window at the familiar passing scenery. Gerard had driven us back to my town. "But it doesn't start."

"Sucks. You live by yourself, Frank?"

"Yes."

"Anybody gonna notice you're gone?"

"Um, my girlfriend," I answered, though I honestly didn't know how many days it would take her to notice.  "I guess my boss and my landlord eventually."

"That all? Not even mommy and daddy?"

I felt pangs of sadness and anger shoot through me with that question, but I was hopefully going to use my truthful answer to my advantage.  Make yourself human in your captor's eyes.  Make them sympathize with you. "I... I didn't really turn out how mommy and stepdaddy wanted.  They haven't noticed me in a really long time."

"Well, look at that," Gerard chuckled, "we've got something in common.  Asshole parents."

Something in common.  That was actually good fucking news. I could attempt to form a bond with him.  Make him see himself in me.  Make him like me.  Make him hesitant to fucking kill me. "I'm sorry then," I chose my words carefully and kept my voice even. "I hope your dad wasn't as bad as my imposter one."

"Aw Frankie," another chuckle danced from Gerard's lips, "you don't have to pretend to care. I said I wasn't killing you, didn't I?"

I kept my eyes on the road as I spoke and made sure my voice didn't waver.  He needed to think I was genuine about empathizing with him.  "I care if anyone else had to grow up like I did."

"Oh?" He spoke mockingly.  He clearly didn't believe me. "And how was that, pretty boy?"

"Never knowing when I was gonna get the shit beaten outta me in my own house and having a mom that defended the drunken fuck who did it." I could feel his gaze on me, but I avoided looking at him and just wrapped my arms around myself to look pathetic.  What I said was true; I didn't have to pretend that part.

"Oh." There it was, the tone of his voice.  He felt sorry for me.  At least in this moment I made him see me as a human being and not just a pawn of his.  Baby steps to staying alive.  I could do this.

The rest of the drive was silent, uncomfortable, terrifying. And it remained that way until Gerard pulled the car into a parking lot that I couldn't fucking believe.  It was my goddamn apartment building.

"Well, this is it, isn't it?" Gerard questioned, whipping out my wallet still in his possession and checking the address on my license. "Gimme your key."

I dug into my coat pocket and handed Gerard over the clip key chain with a few keys attached.  I didn't know what to think.  "What are we doing here?" I couldn't help but blurt out.

"We're making a quick stop out of the goodness of my heart," Gerard said, and then he forced me to lead the way to my place.

Three flights up the stairwell, first door on the right. "This is it," I said quietly, stopping before it.

Gerard let us into the tiny apartment and looked around with a grimace. "I'd say nice place, but it looks pretty much like a shit hole. No offense. So, you got a backpack or something of your own, kid?"

I nodded.

"Well then, let's go get it and get you packed."

"W-what?"

"I told you before that I'm taking you with me," Gerard pulled his gun out of his pocket, casually holding it at his side. "I was hoping you'd at least be a little thankful, Frank. I mean, this is an inconvenience, you know. I go out of my way so you can pack a few things. Well, and also so I don't have to deal with you smelling with just one set of clothes." Gerard grinned.

"Please. Can't you just leave me here?" I was home. And even though it was a crappy little shit hole like Gerard said, it didn't change the fact that it was home. My sanctuary from the rest of the world. I just wanted this nightmare be over. "Please. I swear I won't tell anyone. I swear. Please."

"Frankie come on, the only time for begging is in the bedroom," Gerard winked, chuckling at his own joke before his demeanor turned serious. His eyes locked with mine, and his gun aimed precisely at me. "You're either coming with me, or I'm pulling the trigger. Now Frankie, I don't really _want_ to kill you, but it's up to you what happens here. So what would you rather do?"

"I- I'll go with you," I said shakily.

He grinned, lowering his aim but bringing it right back up after my phone started ringing in my pocket. "Go ahead and check it," he nodded. "Tell me who it is."

I pulled the cell from my pocket and glanced down at the contact picture on the screen and frowned. "It's my girlfriend."

"Hm," he tapped his chin in thought, a slight smirk forming on his face. "Answer it."

I didn't want to. I was afraid he'd try to make me drag her into this somehow, but I answered anyway. He did have the gun pointed at me. If I had to end up refusing to say something to save her and got shot for it then so be it.

"Hey babe," I kept my voice normal. As normal as I could with my gun-toting captor leaning in close to listen in on the call.

"Frank. How you doin' sweetie?"

"I'm good."

"Great great, um look I hate to do this right now, and I know you were just here last night, and I meant to tell you this then, but your face is just too stinkin' cute, you know? And we ended up having some fun instead and I certainly don't regret that, you're awesome, but sweetie..." She drawled in a remorseful tone, "I think we need to, you know, call us quits."

"What..?" I was flabbergasted.  Was this really my _real_ _life_ right now? Was I really getting dumped by my girl while I was in the middle of being abducted. "Kris..." Her name got stuck in my throat. I wasn't so much sad as I was shocked.  "You're breaking up with me?" It came out indignant. 

I was mad now.  Her voice starting to droning on in a false apologetic tone, but I wasn't hearing the words.  Hell, I'm pretty sure Mr. Fucking Kidnap was stifling a laugh beside me, but even that wasn't phasing me really. I was too angry feeling used.  I know our relationship wasn't too deep, but still. She had me go to her place last night so she could dump me, but ended up using me for one last good fuck and sent me on my way when I practically begged to spend the night, then to end up dumping me over the phone the next day.  She was the damn reason I was on the streets last night.  The reason I ended up in the store the time I did.  The fucking reason I got caught up in this goddamn fucking mess with a psycho with a gun.  Sure maybe you could argue she just played a roundabout factor, but not where my logic stood.  This bitch I cared about used me, and set me up to be fucking killed.

"Fuck you," I said harshly into the phone.  I think she was still talking but I ended the call, and when I did Gerard burst out laughing.

His loud laughter kind of brought me back to Earth.  Woke me up from my hurt over Kris and made me remember that yeah, my current situation required all my attention.  Now was not the time for hurt feelings, now was the time to be appropriately scared and be smart about what you say around the man with the gun.

"Wellll," Gerard's laughter petered off. "Sorry there lover boy. But that actually worked out pretty well.  I was gonna have you break up with her; strike a potential 'missing person reporter' off your list." He threw his arm around my shoulders making me stiffen uncomfortably when it seemed like he was trying to give comfort like a chummy friend.

"You know what though," he went on, giving me a 'friendly' knock to the shoulder with the barrel of the gun, "it sounded like she was totally beneath you, you know.  Better off without her, sugar. So how about we get that bag packed, and get this show on the road, huh?"

"You really could just leave me, you know. I promise I–" I had to try just one more time to reason with him, but he cut me off, slowly waving the gun in my face.

"Are you changing your mind, Frankie? You come with me or I shoot, remember?"

"I... No," I shook my head.

"Let me hear you say what you want," his eyes turned cold, and he trailed the gun barrel in this twisted gentle way down the side of my face. It shook me back into a terrified daze.

"I want to go with you, Gerard," I managed to choke the words out.

"Good boy," Gerard grinned, lowering his aim to the floor. "Now don't worry so much, sugar. This'll be like an awesome road trip, you'll see."

~

That 'awesome road trip' was moving on to day four I think. Gerard had driven us through maybe three states, and the further I got taken away from home, the more worried I got. I didn't know how long Gerard was planning to keep me. All these days went by and I still didn't know what he wanted with me.  I felt like a pet. Well, a pet prisoner. Gerard practically had me on a leash, except my leash was a gun and threats of its use on me or other innocent people around us.  It made sure I never had a safe opportunity to try to get away. Plus he had tossed my phone and discovered my switchblade; I had nothing to help me.

I had not choice but to only shuffle along with him mutely when he made stops: for bathrooms, food, clothes —oddly women's stuff and wigs. And what worried me about that was how he held those clothes up to me approvingly before buying or stealing them. My best hope there was letting myself believe I was the same height as a girlfriend or sister or something.

We slept in the car that first night, me in the trunk. Then we stayed at two different motels, and Gerard had at least been kind enough to get rooms with two beds and let me have one arm free, only making one of my wrists uncomfortably cuffed to it.

I guess in the grand scheme of things four days of being held captive wasn't really that long, but already this insane situation kind of transitioned from surreal to normal for me. I was still scared of course, but I guess I came to terms. This was my life now. Held captive by a psycho, but sadly I was pretty sure this new warped life wouldn't last too long for the obviously grim reason. My impending murder had to be coming soon.

So there I was sure Gerard was going to kill me eventually, but then he was oddly nice too.  It was like he was double-sided. He pointed that gun at me more times than I could count, and he'd give orders with icy death threats. But then in a split moment he'd be joking and chummy. And I guess the fact that he kept me fed, let him sleep in a bed, and didn't hurt me physically at all counted toward his skewed good side. Gerard really was like two different people blended together and that just seemed to drive the point home that the man had some mental issues.  A fucking psychotic mind. He sure as fuck was going to kill me one day.  I was living out a really weird version of my worse fear, and I was actually kind of proud of myself. Considering everything, I was pretty damn calm most of the time.  I wasn't a petrified statue on the verge of its heart exploding.  Maybe this meant I finally overcame the fear. Too bad that I was still gonna die.

~

"Alright Frankie my boy, today is the day."

We were in motel number three today. Gerard stood at the foot of my bed holding up a short dark gray skirt and wiggled it in his hand with a grin before setting it down on the bed with the other articles of clothing he dumped there. A white tanktop, a black button-up lightweight sweater decorated sparsely with simple purple butterflies, a bra..

I was sitting in the middle of the bed in just my boxer shorts, my free arms crossed over my chest, trying to cover as much of myself as I could. Gerard had let me stay uncuffed after letting me take a somewhat supervised shower. A very unnerving shower where he made me shave the growing stubble off my face —as well as the hair off my legs.

"Come on, get dressed for me."

"In girls' clothes?" I shot back. I guess I had gradually gotten a bit braver in actually conversing more naturally with my captor.  He was the _only_ fucking company I had. But I was still very mindful about not saying anything that I thought would set Gerard off.

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Come on, you'll look pretty," Gerard chuckled.

"Why do you want me to?" This dress me up thing was making me very fucking nervous.

"Because I need you to be wearing a disguise when you help me rob the bank downtown, sugar."

"......What?"


	4. Accomplice in Drag

I walked into the bank by myself, heart racing. I couldn't believe I was dong this, but Gerard threatened to kill me; and more importantly threatened to gun down an innocent bystander at the outside café across the street if I wasn't back outside with the money in ten minutes. Whether Gerard was really willing to make good on that threat or not, I wasn't about to gamble on it with another person's life.  
  
I made my way over to the short line in that outfit Gerard forced me to wear. That gray skirt was just above my knees, and the black woman's boots I wore up to mid-calf. Gerard topped off this little ensemble with a sheer purple scarf around my neck, a pair of black framed 80s styled sunglasses, and a large black purse. There was also of course the long curly brown-haired wig atop my head, and a dark shade of pink lipstick on my lips. Gerard had wanted me to look like a young woman; and well, I suppose I pulled it off. I definitely didn't recognize myself in the mirror at the motel, and nobody here seemed to be staring. I would have been embarrassed of this get-up if I weren't so terrified and nervous.  
  
It was my turn all too quickly, and nervously I made my way to the free teller at the end of the counter who had called out 'next'.  
  
"What can I do for you today, ma'am?" the cheery blonde woman asked.  
  
I grimaced and pulled the note out from the purse Gerard had instructed me to pass to the teller. I remained silent just like he told me to, and with a shaking hand I placed the paper on the counter. Gerard had let me read the note over briefly, and I hoped to god it would work. People could die outside if I didn't walk out of there with the money. The woman reached for the paper, and I held my breath as I saw her eyes widening as she read it.  
  
 _ **Dear teller,**_  
 _ **We have this woman's daughter outside, and if she doesn't return to us with all the money in your register, we're going to splatter her little girl's brain all over the pavement. No alarm button. If we so much as hear the faint sound of a siren, the girl is dead. Act normal. Return this note to the woman as well as all your cash in envelopes. You have 5 minutes, or this little girl's blood is on your hands.**_  
 _ **Thank you in advance,**_  
 _ **B &C**_  
  
'B&C', Gerard's little homage to Bonnie and Clyde. The teller slid the note back to me, and I could see it was taking a lot out of her to force that smile on her face and act calm. "Okay miss, I'll g-get this done for you as fast as I can."  
  
It had worked. It had fucking worked. The woman quickly went about emptying her register, pretending to quickly count through the bills so nothing would look suspicious with the security camera on her. Seven envelopes were stuffed full of cash and handed over with a fake smile. I zipped up the money securely in the purse and mouthed a nervous 'thank you' before turning to leave. While I walked away my already fast beating heart sped up even more. I had to suppress the urge to run. I could just picture it: security guards were going to come tackling me to the floor any second, that innocent person across the street was going to be shot, and Gerard would just drive off free of getting caught.  
  
But I made it passed the glass doors of the bank, out into the fresh air and under a bright blue sky. A perfect day that only seemed to be mocking the terror I was feeling. I continued on down the sidewalk. As soon as I was in front of the neighboring building, I crossed the street and immediately made my way into Gerard's awaiting car.  
  
"You got it?"  
  
"Y-yes." I nodded, opening the purse in my lap and showing Gerard one of the filled envelopes.  
  
"That's my girl," Gerard grinned. He plucked off my sunglasses and then grabbed a light hold of my jaw, leaning in and pressing his lips against mine in a firm, quick kiss before I knew what was happening. I had gone completely tense, and he merely pulled back with a smirk, his lips now smeared a little with my lipstick.  
  
Gerard just rolled his eyes. "Relax, Frankie. Celebration kiss. And you know, I can't help it that you're a hot chick. Well, a hot guy too, but I digress," he grinned more and took off down the street at a very non-suspicious legal speed. "So your first heist. Heart pounding rush, am I right?"  
  
"No," I said quietly, pulling the wig off and doing my best to wipe the lipstick off with my hand as I looked at my reflection in the small mirror of the sunshade visor. 'No' I had said, but that was a lie. My heart was still pounding. I had just robbed a bank with a fucking piece of paper, and I was getting away with it.  
  
And we continued to get away with it.  
  
We moved our way across the states over the next month. Bank after bank after bank. I had long stopped trying to convince Gerard to stop making me do this. I just went along with it. He didn't even need to verbalize the threats. I guess I gave up. I guess I accepted my reality. This was my life now. A criminal accessory.  
  
I calmly walked out of Gerard's eighth targeted bank, of course dressed like a woman and this time donning a short blonde wig. According to Gerard, this was going to be the last place we robbed using his little note trick. The robberies were all over the news, and there was speculation over whether the women used to commit the robberies were actually in on the crime. Gerard knew he could only use a certain technique so many times otherwise he – _we_ – were just bound to get caught.  
  
I was happy that this was the last one. And honestly not so much because I despised being forced to commit these robberies, but more so because I hoped this was the last time I would be forced to dress in drag. I guess my morals had taken a backseat to feeling comfortable over the past month.  
  
I walked along the sidewalk, purse of stolen money clutched tightly in one hand, while the other was busy yanking the hem of my black skirt down. The ones Gerard kept picking out kept getting shorter and shorter. Yes, I was fucking thrilled this was the end, but I was also worried. Worried that Gerard would now finally kill me. Gerard used me to get money, and now that it was all over, what would he need me around for anymore?  
  
I eyed Gerard in the car up ahead, frowning deeply. The man really was just using me; and for some reason, I don't know, it was like a realization. Maybe it was the fact that Gerard acted friendly so much of the time. This month held far less threats and more of his own peculiar brand of 'bullied nice'. But now it hurt. I was hurting just dwelling on the fact that I was being used. But this shouldn't have been something new to me. Throughout my life I've always always been used or unimportant. Hell, now I was wondering why I cared so much about whether I was killed. I had no loving family. No real friends. The relationships I managed never lasted, never made it to the point of reciprocated deep feelings. Fuck, I was barely scraping by in my miserable excuse for a life. Mundane. Monotonous. Lonely. But then this happened to me. Kidnapped and forcibly made to aid in a fucking crime spree. I was still scared about the situation, no question. But something had started to scare me even more. I had begun to find this new life I was being forced to live _exciting_.  
  
I knew Gerard was my captor. I understood that. But also I couldn't help but feel in a skewed sort of way that Gerard was in an essence taking care of me too. I knew I shouldn't think that; it hurt my head that I did. But something happened in over the course of a month of living like a prisoner, of living like a partner in crime. Part of me didn't want this to end.  
I didn't lose all logic in my brain, though. It would be stupid on Gerard's part if he kept me around, I knew that. Too much of a risk in getting caught. No, Gerard would kill me, and hopefully make it quick. A shot to the head, a shot to the heart. It'd be over in a second. Maybe I wouldn't feel a thing.  
  
I was just a few feet from the car when I suddenly felt a harsh grip on my arm, and in that split second I found myself yanked hard into the alley I was walking by. A large hand was clamped over my mouth, and I could feel the cold blade of a knife pressed warningly to my throat.  
  
"Don't make a sound, pretty."  
  
The voice was hoarse and gruff, and I could tell the man was big as I was tightly held back against the man's large frame. I fell into an internal panic as I was roughly being forced down the wide alley. It really seemed like I had no luck in life. Someone was fucking mugging me while I was already a hostage of someone else. The cloudy sky made for a dark atmosphere, but who the hell mugs people during the day? Once at the end of the alley, I was pushed behind one of the buildings and roughly shoved back against the graffiti covered brick wall, finding myself at last face to face with the man. Head shaved, tall, well built, dark eyes, terrifyingly intimidating. The purse was ripped from my hands, and the man's eyes widened as he obviously saw the envelopes inside overflowing with cash.  
  
"Well shit," he smiled wickedly, "today's my lucky day." He brought the knife back to my neck, and I watched wide-eyed as the man began to undo his belt. "Now be a good girl and keep your fucking mouth shut."  
  
I had fleeting fears of it a few times in the past with Gerard, what with all his sexual comments and him securing me to a bed with furry handcuffs, but now it was going to happen. I was going to be raped by this ugly behemoth. And it quickly registered through the fear that this man was going to find out that I wasn't a girl at all. Either that wasn't going to matter to him or he could fly into a rage and beat me senseless or dead. I think I was more scared now than I had ever been in my life, more scared than all the time spent with Gerard, but I wasn't going to let this happen. I wasn't going to let this sicko get what he wanted, not without a fight. As fast and as powerful as I could, I raised up my knee, precisely ramming it hard between the man's legs. With a sharp cry he fell down to his knees, and I bolted. But not fast enough. The man stayed on the ground in pain, but had quickly darted a hand out, wrapping it tightly around my ankle. I went down, knees and hands scrapping on the asphalt.  
"You little bitch!"  
  
The man was on top of me in a second, throwing a severe backhand across my face that made me see stars. It flashed me back to those horrible moments with my stepfather. It made me angry. It made me fight back harder. I writhed and wiggled and punched from where I was pinned down by the man, but unfortunately my struggling came to a stop when the man had reached for his fallen knife and again pressed it to my throat. My fists couldn't fucking win against a blade. I was frozen. This was it. I was going to be killed. But a figure appeared out of the corner of my eye, and I saw as a foot connected with the side of the man's head. He tumbled off of me, and I looked up to see Gerard standing over me with a hand extended to help me off the ground. I didn't think I would ever be so happy to see Gerard. I got to my feet, my hands and knees bloody, and a bruise already forming on my cheek and around my eye. Gerard appeared to get angrier as he looked over my injuries.  
  
"He hurt you." Gerard practically growled.  
  
A gloved hand instantly aimed his gun at the man on the ground, who was cursing and clutching at the blow to this head. The man noticed the weapon and his eyes grew wide, and I could only watch with wide eyes of my own as Gerard pulled the trigger before the man even had a chance to utter out a plea.  
  
It was horrible. The sound was so loud, and it rung in my ears. And the sight... The bullet hit him in the forehead, and I had to hold back a scream seeing blood and what had to be pieces of the man's brains seemingly explode out the back of his head as the bullet exited. The man slumped to the ground, lifeless eyes open and staring up at the dreary sky. It was like a train wreck that you couldn't look away from. My eyes were horrifically glued to the man –the body– even as blood steadily started to pool around his head. You'd think I'd be desensitized to a sight like this with all the gory horror flicks I love. But this was different. This was real.  
  
Gerard stepped forward and used his foot to push the man over so he was lying on his stomach. I couldn't help but keep stealing glances at the exit wound on the back of the man's head as Gerard plucked the man's wallet out of his jeans' back pocket. He pulled the large wad of cash out and stuffed it into his own pocket.  
  
"Waste not, whatnot," Gerard murmured to himself and threw the wallet back at the body. He grabbed the purse off the ground and then took a hold around my wrist, gently tugging for me to move. "We need to get out of here now."  
  
It was back into the car and taking off away from the scene without a second to spare before the sound of sirens was heard, and quickly after the sight of police cars racing toward the robbed bank and probably the reported gunshot now too. I had gotten into the back seat and tried to stay ducked down and hidden as I changed back into my own clothes as it had become routine after a heist. I was still after that, slipping into a silent and mortified state as Gerard drove on, just constantly staring out the window with a vacant stare. It was all too much to absorb at once. It was too many horrible and traumatic things witnessed and went through in such a short span that I just fucking shut down.  
  
I only vaguely snapped out of it when I felt a tugging on my arm. The car was parked to my surprise, and Gerard was already out and beside my open door to help me out. It was dark now, and we were in the parking lot of new motel. I went through the motions silently and still in a daze as Gerard acquired a room and got us settled inside. I had been sat on the end of one of the beds. The fight with that large man playing out in my head, then his murder. Gerard really was a killer. I didn't fully snap out of my looping thoughts until I felt a sharp sting on my left hand. I turned my head to see Gerard sitting beside me, my hand in his lap, and Gerard cleaning the scrape and dried blood off my palm with a washcloth soaked with antiseptic from a first aid kit. I was still so shaken and now confused, but I just stayed quiet and let Gerard carry on with his actions. He moved on to clean my other palm, and with a gentle order I stood for a moment to strip out of my jeans so Gerard could clean the wounds on my knees.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" I finally was able to bring myself to ask in a small voice.  
  
"You're hurt," Gerard answered simply where was he knelt down on the floor in front of where I sat on the bed to more easily wipe at my knees.  
  
"You killed him."  
  
"That I did," Gerard said without a hint of remorse. He tossed the washcloth on the motel's desk for now and moved back to sit next to me. He brought a hand to the side of my face and let his thumb gently run over the dark bruise on my cheek. "That fucker..."  
  
"You didn't have to kill him. Who are you to decide who lives and dies?"  
  
"I'm nobody to decide that, but I made a decision anyway," Gerard shrugged. "I couldn't exactly bring you to the cops to report him, now could I? And what kind of person would I be if I let that creep just run off? So let's not think of it as me killing someone, but me saving future victims, hmm? And he hurt you. Nobody hurts you."  
  
"Why do you care so much that he hurt me? Aren't you just gonna kill me like that next?"  
  
Gerard remained unusually silent after those questions, and I just watched as he went about stripping down to his boxers and t-shirt. I didn't know what to think anymore. Gerard was a killer. Gerard was going to kill me, but... Gerard was taking care of me. Gerard had seemingly killed the man to protect me. In all honesty I wasn't upset that man was dead. Part of me was even maybe a little happy knowing that man was gone and could never try to hurt anybody ever again. It was seeing the actual death happen. I couldn't get the sight of the blood out of my mind. It made me believe more than ever that Gerard really was capable of killing me without a second thought, and yet why was Gerard helping me? Either somewhere in Gerard's crazy heart and mind he did care somewhat for me, or maybe he just wanted murdering me to be a pleasure carried out all by himself.  
  
"I'm sorry you had to see all that before, Frankie." Gerard's voice finally broke the thick silence of the room. "It's been a long day. Let's get some sleep, yeah?"  
  
I sighed deeply and scooted back on the bed and slipped under the covers. I settled down comfortably and lifted my right arm to rest up beside my head like always for Gerard to handcuff it securely to the headboard, but Gerard just climbed into his own bed and flicked off the lamp.  
  
"Goodnight, Frankie."  
  
"'Night," I whispered back, body still and mind racing.  
  
I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to believe. Maybe Gerard just forgot about the handcuffs. Maybe he did it on purpose. Maybe, just maybe, this was his way of telling me that I could go.  
  
I laid awake —I don't know how long, maybe hours— trying to figure out what I should do, my eyes constantly drawn to the car key on the desk, catching the little sliver of light shining in from a space between the pulled down window shade and the wall. I couldn't decide whether not using the handcuffs was a mistake or not on Gerard's part. Whether it was permission to leave or if I was just toying with another escape attempt. I had this screaming voice inside me to just run, but there was also a pull inside me to stay. I was so fucking confused. My mind was split in two, and I didn't know what to believe or what was right anymore. In the end it was that nagging thought within me that ended up swaying my decision, that feeling where I felt more sure that Gerard would just kill me if I stuck around. If I left now, I didn't feel like I could go to the cops though. I helped pull off robbery after robbery, and I did not expect them to believe I did it under duress. And going back home wasn't an option either. Gerard knew where I lived, plus it had been such a long time my landlord probably cleared out my shit and had a new tenant. I barely had anything to my name, I couldn't just pick up and start all over, unless... Unless I took the money too.  
  
I could tell Gerard was asleep from the familiar sounds of those tiny snores every so often. I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could. I would still have to be very careful; Gerard always kept his gun by his pillow. Shaking and oh so carefully I opened up Gerard's duffle bag and strained to see through the darkness and pulled out a bag within. That was the bag were Gerard had been keeping all the stolen money. I opened it to make sure it was there, and indeed it was along with Gerard's other gun that he had stolen from the police officer back at the 7-Eleven. I took it all, the money and the gun, and got to my feet. I slipped on my jeans and shoes and took a silent deep breath. This was it. Just grab the keys to the car and my backpack, slip out of the motel room, and this nightmare would be over.  
  
I got to the door, my hand on the knob to leave. This was the right decision. Wasn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long update wait! I got consumed by my other fic "Tynkerbell" (if you're willing to give a Frank Iero/Synster Gates pairing a try please do check it out), but that one is finished now so SS has my full free time attention :)


	5. Partners

This was a mistake. I had only driven a few miles away from the motel, and the whole time there was a growing sick feeling in my gut, one that was telling me I made the wrong choice. My decision to leave was because I was afraid Gerard was going to kill me in the end, but that fear didn't sit right when I dwelt on it more. Gerard had to care for me at least a little. He saved me from that mugger, took care of my injuries, and had possibly left me free to go. Sure, Gerard had taken me hostage, was some kind of professional criminal, and most importantly had fucking killed someone. But he did it for _me_. To protect me. To avenge me.  
  
And my time with Gerard, had it really still been a nightmare? Maybe it wasn't the ideal dream of a life, but what kind of life had I really been living before I had been stolen away from it? It was a life of being anxious all the time, lonely and never really felt cared for, even during the time I had my girlfriend. It was a mundane existence. It was barely living. Gerard had been right the first time he said it, every time I walked out of those banks getting away with stealing, it really was a heart pounding rush. Maybe I'd hate to admit it, but all this time with Gerard was the first time in so long that I actually felt like I was alive and accomplishing something. For the past couple weeks it had become increasingly hard to determine whether pre-abduction life was better or worse then my life now. Yes, Gerard had pointed a gun at me and made threats more times than I could count, but Gerard was _there_. More than anybody I ever shared a relationship with. This mess had a terrifying start, but it changed. Life was a thrill. The excitement rush, a good kind of fear, and always having someone around. Gerard didn't steal me away from anything good. He gave me a new start.  
  
I messed up. I shouldn't have left. I had to fix this. Somewhere deep down I knew I was thinking crazy, but didn't care. Gerard had looked after me. Gerard was my friend. I needed to get back. It was about three in the morning, and with the road dark and empty at this hour, I didn't think twice as I quickly threw the stirring wheel to the left, sending the car skidding at full speed around into the opposite lane so I could head back to the motel. I felt so sure I wouldn't have to be afraid of Gerard killing me. Sure that if I just went off on my own my life would be miserable. Sure that if I went back to Gerard I would always feel alive and never lonely. Gerard needed to know I _wanted_ to stay. He needed to know I was serious. That I could really be his ally.  
  
I was back at the motel in record time. I grabbed Gerard's bag, shouldered my backpack, and hurried to the door. If Gerard had awoken he would probably be more than pissed that I had taken the money, but I was relying on the belief that somewhere along the abnormal time spent together, Gerard developed the same sort of bizarre fondness I had. At room 111 I knocked lightly, hoping above all else that Gerard would be happy I came back. But when I knocked the door creaked open a little. It had been left unlocked and slightly ajar, and I remembered clearly that I had shut it when I left.  
  
"Gerard..?" I called out softly. No response. I fumbled my hand against the wall to find the light switch. The wall lamps turned on at once, and I felt my heart sink a little when I saw Gerard's empty bed. "Gerard?" I called out a little louder, rushing in further to check the bathroom. It was empty, and Gerard's duffle bag was nowhere in sight. He had left, and probably to avoid getting caught by the police, thinking I went to them. I couldn't stop frowning. Couldn't stop feeling so stupid for leaving. Couldn't stop feeling so empty. I had blown my chance. I trudged back to the car and sighed. There was no chance in hell I'd ever be able to find Gerard if I tried. I only had a description and a first name that may or may not even be real. The only people that may have been able to help me would be the police, but I sure as fuck couldn't go to them. I was all alone, and it was all my fault.  
  
I started up the engine, threw the car into gear, and just started driving. I was lost and had no clue where I was going, but I really didn't give a shit where I ended up. On and on I drove fast and aimlessly, only slowing a bit when I was about to pass a police car that had pulled someone over. I casually glanced over, watching the men in the glow of headlights, and my eyebrows just about leapt off my forehead when I recognized the man the police officer was making get out of the car to be Gerard. I kept on driving a little ways and pulled over to the side of the road. I was dazed and overwhelmed. Finding Gerard was some crazy sign from the fates, and I wasn't about to let him get arrested and taken away. I had to stop this somehow. My eyes drifted to the bag of money resting in the passenger seat as I remembered the gun was still in there. Spring Gerard with the gun. I could do this. It was fucking crazy, but I was going to do this.  
  
I turned back out into the road, driving back toward Gerard, and pulled over on the other side of the street across from the arresting scene and watched for a second as the cop was clamping his handcuffs around Gerard's wrists behind his back. My breathing had already became erratic with just the thought of what I was about to do. I pulled the gun out of the bag, and in that instant my nerves were gone. I was finally on the other end of a weapon that kept me a prisoner for so long. There I was holding a gun, and I felt this surge of 'I don't know what' in my chest. Power? Confidence? Exhilaration? A bundle of it all and more. I wasn't sure if that was the proper reaction for a person to have when holding a weapon for the first time. It was weird, the weight of it in my hand felt perfect, like in my hand is where it belonged. That feeling probably should have worried me, but I wasn't fretting over it. There wasn't any time. Right then I was feeling bold and very ready to put this stupid plan of mine into action. I tucked the gun into the back of my jeans as I got out of the car, and stayed put where I stood across the street.  
  
"Hello! Officer!" I yelled, making my voice sound as pathetic and nonthreatening as I could.  
  
The cop was in the process of leading Gerard to the police car, and he had kept a cautious glance on me the whole time, but it wasn't until I called out that he stopped and gave me his full attention. Gerard looked at me too, his face was immediately painted with shock.  
  
"I need help. Please." I pathetically went on.  
  
"Stay right there, kid," the cop acknowledged me in his gruff voice. "Hold on."  
  
He was pushing Gerard in the back of the car, and with the cop's back to me I pulled out my gun and started walking toward him. Gerard was shut away safely inside, and the cop turned around. The man spared a look of shock for a fleeting second and then started to reach for his own gun. I went into this only meaning to reason with the cop, to use the gun as a threat, but in these milliseconds it didn't seem like an option. I swear I didn't jump into this meaning to shoot anyone, but it felt like there was only one thing I could do to get out of this alive with Gerard. I pulled the trigger. And I pulled it again and again. Adrenaline was exploding through me. I never fired a gun before. At least one bullet missed hitting the driver side door, but at least one of them hit my intended target. It was too dark for me to tell where the bullet got him, but it was good enough of a hit that the cop crumpled to the ground.  
  
I became frozen, my hold of the gun still aimed up at the target that had dropped and the shots of the gun ringing in my ears as I just stared at the cop's slumped down form. He laid there for a few seconds, a hand clutching at his chest where the bullet wound had to be. And then I saw it. A dark liquid steadily streaming through his fingers. Blood. The cop struggled to take in a few breaths and then the breathing stopped altogether. My mind was whirling. I just shot a man. I just killed a man. But I did it to save someone else, surely that didn't make what I did that horrible...  
  
A loud thud snapped me out of it. I was Gerard hitting his shoulder against the car window where he was trapped inside. I hurried to the door and let him out.  
  
"Shit. Frankie." Gerard just stared me down disbelievingly before he seemed to snap out of a shock. "Get the key out for me," he ordered next, nodding down to the fallen cop.  
  
All I could do was nod and do as I was told. I tried to avoid looking at the bloody hole in the man's chest as I searched the belt he wore for the keys to the handcuffs. I dug them out quickly and freed Gerard only to have him swipe the gun out of my hand and aim it under the side of my jaw.  
  
"You little shit. I should kill you for taking all the money, but I suppose this makes up for it." Gerard pulled the gun away and smiled. "You're like my knight in shining armor, Frankie. Shit luck I fucking end up stealing a car that was already stolen. Ah well, crisis averted." Gerard ruffled my hair and reached down to grab the cop's fallen gun.  
  
"I... I'm sorry I left. I–"  
  
"We'll discuss your reasoning behind this little stunt of yours later, I think. For now we have a bit of a mess to clean up."  
  
"What are we gonna do with him?" I asked quietly, craning to look down either side of the road, expecting any second for a car full of witnesses to be heading our way.  
  
"We're going to get rid of him." Gerard tucked the guns away in the back of his pants and moved to pull open the police car door. He pulled out the keys dangling from the ignition and quickly ran around to the other end of the car and opened the trunk. "Help me get him in here. I have an idea."  
  
Gerard grabbed under the cop's arms, and I lifted at his legs. We hauled the heavy man up, struggling a bit with the very literal dead weight as we moved him the little ways to the back of the car. He was dumped unceremoniously into the trunk, limbs getting pushed in awkwardly to fit them inside. Gerard slammed the trunk door down and twirled the ring of keys around his finger with a grin.  
  
"Step one, complete."  
  
"We just leave him here?" I asked, chewing on my lip a little nervously. My heart was racing, but overall I was acting pretty calm despite the situation. Too fucking calm.   
  
"Fuck no. He'll be found in a heartbeat. You must have passed that lake a few miles back if you took this road. We'll ditch the car and the body in there. So here's the plan, sugar: we're gonna move my shit into your car, I'll drive the pigmobile to the lake, and I'm gonna trust you to follow me in your wheels. Then we push that fucker down to sleep in the lake bed. Got it?"  
  
"Yeah," I nodded.  
  
And we did just that without a hitch. I followed and helped Gerard according to plan, the two of us lingering at the side of the lake a moment to watch the final bubbles surfacing on the water as the last of the air escaped the car. If the cop had miraculously only been wounded and unconscious, he sure as fuck was dead now. I let Gerard lead me back to the car and let him be the one to get behind the wheel. Gerard sped away from the scene, and I just stared out the window not really sure how to feel about everything that just happened.  
  
"I can't believe you did that back there. Fucking shot a cop." Gerard chuckled to himself. "Didn't think you'd ever have something like that in you, sugar. I guess I owe you a thank you."  
  
I just gave a small nod and remained silent. I was exhausted. Mentally and physically.  
  
"Here," Gerard pulled one of the guns from where they were tucked in his jeans and held it out to me. "You kill a man, you get his gun or some shit like that. Considering everything you just did back there I'd hope I could trust you not to use it on me, partner."  
  
"Partner?" God, the word made an insanely happy surge rush through me.  
  
"Well, you're here on your own free will, aren't you? And if you wanna stick around I think you-"  
  
"I do," I cut in. My gaze shifted to the gun in my hands as I spoke on. "I didn't mean to leave. Not really. I went back, but you were already gone. I wanna keep helping you. I know I'm probably nuts for thinking like this, but you made this crazy shit my reality. And I... I like it. I don't want it to stop. I wanna do this. I wanna hold a gun next to you. I wanna take what I want. I wanna make other people afraid. I'm done being the one that's always afraid."  
  
"Well, shit," Gerard chuckled. "You are full of surprises. You know, I'll admit I was planning on killing you way back in the beginning; it's why I didn't give a shit about telling you my real name. But I've grown a little attached to you, sugar," Gerard glanced at me with a wink and tickled under my chin. "I left you free to go on purpose, you know? It took a lot out of me, but I couldn't kill you, and I couldn't bring myself to keep forcing you along either. You got under my skin in a very annoyingly good way. And then all this happens. Fuck. I never thought this would have been an option, but I think partners can work out just fine as long as you remember that I'm the one in charge. Can you remember that, Frankie?"  
  
"I'll do what you say, I promise."  
  
"Very good," Gerard grinned. "Now why don't you try to sleep, Frankie. You look tired. I'll find us somewhere to stay."  
  
"Okay," I nodded and couldn't help the yawn that escaped me next as I stashed the gun away in the glove box.   
  
~  
  
It wasn't just another motel. When I had been gently shaken awake, it was day time and I found us stopped outside the grand glass lobby doors of a really nice hotel. Our bags were taken by a bellhop, and the car taken by a valet. I never caught the name of the place as Gerard got us a room and as we were led to it, but the place was huge and ritzy and nice as fuck. And our room, _our room_... I was sure it was three times the size of my old apartment. It had a small kitchen area, an expansive, luxurious living quarters with a big screen tv, a equally luxurious master bedroom, and this huge bathroom with a built in jacuzzi tub. There I was in ripped jeans and a ratty t-shirt. I so out of place being somewhere so upscale, but I wasn't about to complain.  
  
Gerard was busy tipping the bellhop, and I strolled over to the large French doors that led out to a balcony that overlooked an impressive view of the ocean. I went on outside and lightly gripped onto the white railing as I gazed out at the view. The sand of the beach looked white and pristine and the water sparkling. I may have felt out of place right now, but I could definitely get used to staying at places like this. It wasn't long before I felt the presence of someone else beside me, and I looked over to see Gerard leaning against the rail, admiring the view as well.  
  
"Where are we?" I asked.  
  
"That doesn't matter," Gerard shrugged, still looking out over the water. "Just that we're here, and it's perfect. I thought after such a successful time together we could treat ourselves to a little vacation."  
  
"Do we deserve a vacation?"  
  
"Aw, now don't tell me you feel guilty about the money," Gerard was looking at me now and sighed.  
  
"No," I let out a short chuckle at my answer. "I probably should, but I don't. But about the cop..." my voice quietly trailed off.  
  
"Frankie," Gerard sighed again, slinging an arm over my shoulders and leading me back inside. "Why worry yourself over some random man you didn't even know. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sucks to be him." He pulled me down to sit with him on the large soft plush tan sofa in the room. "You did what you had to do. And no amount of feeling bad or sorry is going to change anything. What's in the past is in the past, and what's dead is dead. So my advice to you, sugar, is try not to worry about it, and just try to forget."  
  
"It's not even about feeling guilty," I admitted, looking down at my fidgeting hands in my lap. "I mean, I do feel guilty I guess. I'm the reason he's dead, but... at the same time I kinda don't care? I killed someone and most of me doesn't care. That's what's fucking me up. I know I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant being able to get away with you."  
  
"Sounds to me like you just need to bury the part that does care, and you'll be good as gold. You saved me, sugar. How about you just try to think of it that way?"  
  
"I'll try." We were both quiet for a while, but then I decided to tell him something I never told anyone before. "You wanna know what my biggest fear was?" I kept my eyes glued to my lap as a spoke. "Don't make fun of me, 'cause I already know it's really stupid. I was insanely afraid of being captured and murdered by some kind of crazy killer. I guess I was captured by one, but who would have thought I'd end up a killer instead." I chuckled humorlessly at myself. I really was crazy but far beyond the point of caring.  
  
Gerard ruffled my hair, a chuckle of his own leaving his lips. "Well, aren't we peas in a pod then. You know, killing is never a planned part of the end game. It's just, sometimes things happen and it can't be helped."  
  
"How many people have you killed?" I looked to him and asked.  
  
"Does it matter?" he questioned back without missing a beat.  
  
The truthful answer and the disturbing answer were one in the same: it didn't matter to me. It probably should have, but it didn't. He could have told me it had only been that mugger in the alley or said it was over a hundred, and I wouldn't have cared. Gerard wasn't someone I was scared of anymore. He wouldn't hurt me. I trusted him, and I know he trusted me.  
  
"No," I answered.  
  
"Then let's leave it a mystery, shall we? Now, come on." Gerard got to his feet and motioned for me to do the same. "Come check out the bedroom with me. I haven't really looked around."  
  
I got up and followed, lingering just inside the doorway as I watched Gerard kick off his shoes and climb onto the king sized bed so he was standing tall at the end. I watched with an amused smile as Gerard flung out his arms and just let himself fall back onto the mattress.  
  
"Damn, this is the most comfortable bed I've ever laid on," Gerard commented. He scooted up a little higher on the bed so his head rested on a pillow, and he looked to me, folding his arms up behind his head. "I figure we can share it. That's okay, isn't it, Frankie?"  
  
"That's fine," I nodded, walking over to stand at the foot of the bed.  
  
"Good. Come on lay down with me. Seriously, it's so fucking comfortable."  
  
I did as he was told, toeing off my shoes before crawling on from the foot of the bed and laying down on my back next to Gerard. I rested my head back on a pillow and sighed. Gerard was right, the bed was so soft. It felt like my body was melting into it. The two of us stayed quiet for a while. I was just appreciating this amazing place I was going to get to live in for a few days or so, and it didn't bother me for a second that I owed it all to thievery. It was Gerard that finally broke the silence, turning on to his side so he was facing me.  
  
"So Frankie," Gerard shifted a little closer, and soon I felt his finger trace over the tattoos on my arm. I didn't flinch. It actually felt nice. "Am I really so charming that you really want to stick around and take up a despicable life of crime?"  
  
"It's exciting," I answered after a moment, turning my head to watch Gerard. "You're exciting. I'm just hoping with all future plans I can stick with wearing pants though."  
  
"Aw, but you're so pretty all dolled up," Gerard joked with a smirked. He kept his hand moving, gently trailing up to my neck and the side of my face. His fingers then came to play with the strands of my hair, delicately twirling the locks.  
  
I sighed contentedly and closed my eyes. I had no objections. Lying there comfortably and letting my former captor touch and almost cuddle with me probably should have been weird, but I didn't feel shy or wrong about it. The man had successfully flipped my life into another direction, and I was more than excited for that. As far as I was concerned, Gerard had saved me from a mundane, lonely existence. And as far as I was concerned at this moment, Gerard was absolutely amazing for giving me this kind of affectionate attention. I starved for it most of my life. Now that I trusted him I couldn't help but just want to soak it all in.  
  
"You know I was thinking," Gerard spoke up again, continuing to play with my dark locks, "we could get a permanent place to stay at when we're taking a break from our...illicit monetary acquirements. We could call it our secret lair and everything." I laughed loudly at the descriptions. "Why Frankie, I don't think I've ever heard you really laugh before. Too cute, sugar."  
  
I almost blushed at that and opened my eyes, turning on to my side as well so I could face Gerard. "How are we gonna stay somewhere?"  
  
"Let's just say I've got more money than you can imagine me having all tucked away nice and safe. We can get a place wherever we want. Would you like that, Frankie? Just you, me, and the bat cave?"  
  
I laughed softly again and nodded my head. "I'd like that a lot." I believed one hundred percent that the nightmare I lived through was absolutely worth it to end up where I was now. Sure this new life I was taking up was less than honest, but it was raw and real and exciting. And it had Gerard in it.  
  
"Excellent, 'cause I think you and me should stick together. This life can be a bitch and kinda lonely doing it all yourself," Gerard began to gently stroke his fingers up and down over my jaw. "We can watch each other's backs, yeah? Keep each other company. Help each other out with our needs..."  
  
More of that simple attention, those touches, those words; I felt myself turning into putty in Gerard's hands. And I liked it. Gerard was someone different from the beginning of our time together. The 'domineering bastard' was definitely part of Gerard's personality, but he wasn't putting any gun to my head, no threats. The feel of Gerard's touch was oddly loving. With a life mostly deprived of such feeling, I fucking basked in it. I never even really got these moments of loving touches from Kris. But I was getting it now, and I just couldn't help it. I wanted more. I seized a hold of Gerard's face and crashed our lips together. Gerard was shocked at first, but that kiss was readily accepted and deepened. Our lips jigsawed together, our tongues battled and tasted. And that kiss lasted until we both desperately needed breath. Gerard definitely enjoyed it and so did I, but I instantly became a bit shy and unsure if that was such a good thing to do.  
  
"Why Frankie," Gerard smirked, slipping a hand underneath the front of my shirt, gliding his fingers over bare skin,"I really have corrupted you."  
  
I bit at my kiss swollen lip and smiled, feeling my muscles flutter as Gerard's fingers crept under the waist of my jeans. "I guess so."  
  
"You know sugar doll, I think this partners thing is going to work out just fine."

**Author's Note:**

> ***Originally written in 2008 and now brought back to life revamped for your viewing pleasure :)***


End file.
